


Exactly The Way He Imagined It

by WayFish



Series: Looking In [1]
Category: The Following
Genre: Fluff and Angst, Hurt, Kissing, M/M, Reunions, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-24
Updated: 2013-03-24
Packaged: 2017-12-06 09:04:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 632
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/733922
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WayFish/pseuds/WayFish
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's almost exactly as he imagined it. If he were going to write it, he would have written it this way.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Exactly The Way He Imagined It

He’s not what Ryan might have imagined. Not that he’d considered this an option. And he supposes that that’s the problem. He’s been short sighted again

The young man is thin, and long limbed, leaning with his elbows on the bed rail. His hair is mousey and messy. There’s a cigarette pack imprint faded into the back pocket of his jeans. Tattoos trail up his arms and slip beneath the pushed up sleeves of his hoodie and Weston is holding his hand, tracing the black ink lines up and down the man’s wrist.

The man says, “...She told you. No travel..."

"...For at least a week. I know," Weston groans. "I just, I want to be home, with you and the dog and-"

"And I can think of worse things than holing up in a hotel for a few days. On Uncle Sam’s dime, no less. So don’t make a face.”

Weston reaches up and hooks his fingers in the neck of the mans t shirt. “Come’er.”

The man shakes his head. “No. I’m mad at you. I mean, I love you, an all. But still...”

But slowly, Weston reels the man in til he’s sitting beside him. “I’m sorry.”

The young man sighs and scrapes his nails over Weston’s stubble. “You can’t do this again,” he says. “Ever. I’ll leave you. For a bartender. Or a grad student.”

“I can’t promise that.”

He nods. He looks devastated. But he says, “I know. I do.” A Ryan tries to remember how many times he’s had this conversation. With Claire. With his sister. With his ex-es. With turned out girls and boys he didn’t spent more than one night with. He was never brave enough to tell them that he wasn’t infallible. Because he didn’t want them to worry. Or maybe it was pride. Right then, right that moment, he’s not sure.

Weston says, “Then come’er.”

The young man hesitates. Because he’s not sure how to go about it without hurting him. Ryan knows this because he’d considered the same obstacle. Played it out in his head on repeat. Weston says “It’s ok.” And takes the man’s hands, guides them to a spot on his hip and the side of his neck so his thumb slots just behind his ear.

And Ryan thinks this must be how they always do it. Leaning against kitchen counters. On street corners. In their bed.  Because it looks so right and comfortable. And Weston looks so relieved. The young man finds a place between the bruises, at the corner of his mouth and kisses him so so softly.

There’s a tightening in Ryan’s chest and a feeling churns up in his throat that he can’t quite suss out. But it’s funny nonetheless. Because it’s exactly what he imagined. He would have written it just this way. A reunion, that was not entirely lacking in joy but slightly sad and sarcastic that ended with a kiss. Well not just a kiss. More than a kiss, because that's what he and any audience would want. The only difference is that he’s not part of this scenario. It’s not his story. So he stands there in the doorway, with Weston’s duffel suddenly heavy in his hand, and he watches

“I thought I’d never get to do that again,” says Weston.

The man laughs and before he can say something snide Weston pulls him closer, kissing him again, pressing as much of himself against him as he can.

And that’s when Ryan can’t watch any more. He clears his throat. And they break apart.

“I um... Sorry, I got your bag from the hotel,” he says, feeling suddenly stupid. “I’m not sure if it’s got everything you needed or...”

“Don’t worry about it.” Weston beams. “Ryan, this is Teddy, my boyfriend.”


End file.
